I Wish I Was
by IGuessMyNameIsKai
Summary: Edward Elric dreamed at night. He dreamed of deserts and forests and oceans and a land called Amestris, bordered by four seemingly endless countries. He knew it would never exist, for he lived a different life, where his dreams amd wishes would never come true. Or so he thought. Warnings in first part.
1. WARNINGS

This story has mentioned yaoi (but otherwise no couples) swearing, possibly OOC characters, mentioned misdisgnosis and mental illness, death, and possibly more... the doctor might show up once or twice

:D

DISCLAIMER: I dont oen Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters,


	2. Routine

Honestly, Edward Elric lived a boring, monotonous life. He lived in the countryside near a river with his parents, and was attending a nearby college at the age of eighteen, which, apparently, should be good, fun, bordering on exiting. Honestly, he didn't feel any of that. He was bored with it. The monotonous, near-hypnotic sequence his days always passed in. Wake up, take his pills, get ready, eat, attend his morning class, wait for his afternoon class, attend his afternoon class, go to his temporary workplace (finish his work) go home, take his pills and sleep, squeezing his homework in while waiting for his afternoon class. He couldn't stand it much longer; everyone kept trying to change his routine. He knew that he wasn't normal, and he knew what was wrong with him, brother always told him. That's what brother said. His perfect sibling who hadn't a bad hair on his body. It was because of this feeling he had that he had to make a change to his monotonous and perfectly-goddamn-fine schedule on Wednesdays and Fridays for his twice-a-week therapy session (which really had no meaning) and constantly take the stupid goddamn pills and do the stupid goddamn essays and--

He could go on for ages, back to therapy.

The only thing said "therapy" had ever established in its seven years in his life was that he only felt normal in his dreams. End of story.

He preferred his dreams.

Edward Elric dreamed at night. He dreamed of deserts and forests and oceans and a land called Amestris, bordered by four seemingly endless countries, all equally as vast as its' neighbours. He knew it would never exist, for he lived a different life, where his dreams and wishes would never come true, because there was something wrong with him, and he was just a stupid college student. Amestris was bordered by Creta, Aerugo, Drachma, Xing, and (formerly) Xerxes, now the eastern desert (which bordered Xing, Creta, and, of course, Amestris.) Here, in Germany, he was surrounded by all the countries of Europe. And no matter what he wanted he wouldn't be able to go to any of his neighbouring countries. He wasn't allowed to travel and explore, because his doctor says that he'd likely go on a tangent and somebody would get hurt. Or he would forget to take the useless pills he was prescribed.

Who gives a damn?

He didn't. He just wanted to be normal, and free, and in Amestris. He hated Germany, hated this earth, hated Europe. He would even go so far as to say that he hated life itself. His mother was an oblivious bitch, his father a heartless bastard. And his brother-- Oh. His brother. He fucking hated his brother. Alfons could go fucking die for all he cared. The sad thing was that he'd be more likely to laugh than to cry if Alfons' life was lost. And so, another monotonous day, and his sweet peace will be broken tomorrow, because it's Thursday, and every Friday he goes to therapy instead of his afternoon lecture (which starts at two o'clock, and ends at three, whereas afternoon classes are two to four o'clock, and then he goes to work at four-thirty and leaves at seven.)

Morning starts after fifteen minutes of lying down and his second alarm rings. With that, he gets up and starts his daily routine. First, his pills. The first ones were ten-millimetres-wide circular pills, which he quickly gulped down with flavoured water (they tasted horrible, and he didn't care if he wasn't meant to take them with water, flavoured or otherwise; they didn't have any helpful affects anyway). The second one was a four-hundred-miligram pill that didn't taste of anything. The side effects were horrible when they kicked in. Drowsiness, nausea, occasional vomiting and dehydration. What a great experience! (Insert sarcasm here.) He couldn't focus on anything when he'd take them (which made the side effects seem worse; it felt like the pain and nausea (etcetera) only worsened when he tried to focus, and caffine didn't even remotely come close to helping raise his awareness and lower tiredness! In other words, he thought angrily, the medicine is fucking useless...)

Now he takes a shower (hair wash, body wash, shave afterwards) which is easy, and he does everyday, because it's routine and it makes sense and he doesn't need to change anything at all with sweet, perfect routine, and he gets dressed into the same colours he always wears: black, red and the occasional blue. Perfect routine. Then he heads downstairs, ignores the milk and eats crunchy, dry, tasteless cereal with fruits and nuts, because it's nutritional and it's all he'll eat today unless he eats something at work.

Wait. He's forgot something.

That's right! The pills. He's meant to take his pills in today because he's getting worse. Liars. Breaking his routine just because they see fit! He should ignore them, but his wretched mother would bug him until he took them anyway, and she didn't care if he missed the classes thay were apart of today's routine schedule. The same one he had on Tuesday, because Mondays had their own schedule, where he worked at the lab with his partner for the whole day, Tuesdays were the same as Thursdays, biology and maths, Wednesdays were the same as Fridays, short lessons on half of the required subjects, though half of them were cut out, Thursdays were the same as Tuesdays, Fridays had the other half of required class and therapy, like on Wednesday. His routine. Perfect. Minus therapy. Then the stupid weekends came around and he had to stay in because everyone from his class isn't busy and they think something is wrong with him too.

But there isn't. He's getting nowhere. It's ten minutes past his morning routine and he's only just stepped outside. He has to run to get to class on time, so that's what he does. As usual, the teacher greets him with a scowl, but he's not late. The teacher doesn't say anything as he sits down. Ten minutes later it's time for class and the lecture begins. It's here when the side effects of the four-hundred-milligram pill kick in. And he can't focus, and the teacher knows that. She keeps talking about something he probably already knows and she's talking faster on purpose so he can't make out anything she's saying. He fucking hates this teacher. She's so infuriating and he doesn't want to have to listen to her wordless drone and see faceless people looking at her with blank eyes lit with understanding when he can't hear for shit. He wants to stand up and yell "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" And be done with this class and all the faceless, nameless people in the room. But if he does, the doctor will ruin his perfect routine with yet another prescription pill and longer therapy lessons, because that'll mean that he's getting worse. He's meant to take the pills whe he feels high concentrations of negative emotions (as well as mornings and nights) but the teacher will ask him what he's doing when he takes his water bottle out of his bag and then he'll be cornered, and he'll get mad. He'll snap, and the doctor will prescribe another pill and recommend longer therapy lessons.

Screw it.

Fuck the teacher. He unzips his bag and pulls out his bottle, filled with water, and pulls the two cylindrical tubes of pills out of his bag, he puts the two different pills on his mouth, then gulps down a mouthful of water with them. A few people avert their eyes from the teacher to look at him, but quickly look away. There. Now the doctor can't complain. Now he just has to survive the rest of the day without the nosy fuckers he called his classmates asking why he was taking medicine in class.

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I'm not sure if I did well and it is not Trisha and Alphonse hating, it is their alternate selves being hated by our Ed. 1200 words is a lot for me...


	3. Gone

And just like that, his routine was gone.

He was choking. He couldn't breath. He gasped and clawed at his neck but that didn't do anything. Something was stopping him from breathing. He couldn't see, but he knew that he wasn't where he was before.

And just like that the choking pressure disappeared.

Then, he thought, where was he? He opened his eyes and something dark and murky burned his retinas. Water? It felt like it. He could feel the liquid wading through his fingers and in between his toes. He couldn't taste salt, so he wasn't in a sea or ocean (probably) so why was the water moving with so much force? The liquid thrust him forward and backward, again and again, in a strange sensation akin to a thrum of sound, if alone anything at all. This wasn't one of his dreams... What was it? He wasn't breathing but he was, he couldn't see anything anymore. The murkiness had disappeared into black and--

What was that? Something white had flashed in his very limited vision. There it was again! And then beams of all colours and shades flashed by. What was this? Then it all went black-- no, grey. The not-water moved him backwards and... Everything was white. The floor was white, the walls where white-- he wasn't even sure they were the walls, or if that was the floor-- and there was a large double door with intricate carvings in front of him. He'd seen this before. In his dreams. Where Amestris and Creta and Aerugo and Drachma and Xing rule above all small countries because they have a power only they are capable of using: Alchemy. Alchemy was powered by this Gate, which decided equivalence and had a guardian which had long disappeared known as Truth. It, The Gate, didn't seem to radiate power or anything of the like. But it seemed alive... It had an aura of emotion surrounding it. But what was It feeling? The governor of equivalence growled, and the doors opened. It wasn't angry, that much he could see. He didn't think of anything as the nightmare black arms pulled him inside and doors slammed shut. Fear clawed at him as the doors slammed shut behind him and a terrifying calm washed over him before it all went to hell.

Hislegwasgonehisarmwasgonebut--

It felt like he'd never been born with those limbs and he suddenly couldn't remember how they were ever used.

"Being reborn can truely have a steep price..." The man of a thousand voices whispered into his ear before it all went black.

Well, blacker than it already was, anyway.

"Of course, you're only going halfway there."

The man of a thousand voices grinned into his retinas. He was there but he wasn't. Where was here? So many questions. No answers. He had a burning headache and he felt something watching him? "Ed?" A silky voice said, angry but worried, quiet and careful. He opened his eyes and, with a heavy blink, found the source of the noise. A young child, years off a teen at best, younger than him (who she was and how old she was, he didn't know, but, to be honest, he didn't care) with healthy straw-coloured hair and bright blue eyes was gazing upon him with concern in her eyes.

"Hm? Who are you?" His voice sounded higher and childlike, but he didn't take notice. What he did take notice to was that the blond girl straight up burst out crying. "W-wha--?" He didn't know what to do right now.

And then another voice joined in. "Brother!" A younger voice berated. "Don't play jokes on Winry like that, it's not funny!" He turned around to see a legless, younger Alfons with grey-green eyes scowling at him. He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide hid shock, though failed and immediately started spluttering. "Y-you are joking, right?" Younger-Alfons asked. He shook his head.

He didn't expect the gate to take him to a room full of crying kids and take his arm and leg.

Shit.

He looked to the side and, sure enough, his arm was missing, he looked down and the same had happened. "W-where am I?" He asked quietly, his voice scratchy and wavering.

"Wait, you don't remember?" Alfons mumbled. "Not even our names?"

H-huh? Where did that come from? "N-no."

"You do remember where Resimbool is, don't you?"

He froze.

Holy shit!

"Amestris?" He hissed in disbelief. That must mean--

"Alphonse?"

The green-eyed boy grinned and Winry looked up, a small twinkle in her childlike eyes.

He looked at his arm again, and to the side. I didn't look like a hospital.

Why does everything look bigger? The bedcovers rolled off his lone leg inches away from the end, and it was a fairly small bed, too. Now it made more sense. "How old am I?"

Winry smiled, this time, and answered for real perfect-little-brother. "You're turning ten in four months. You were in a coma for a few. We're so glad you woke up." She looked at Alphonse. "I'll go get Granny, see if I can get you guys lunch."

Ed was suddenly aware of his very empty stomach.

Alphonse was contempt with the silence and so that left Edward to his thoughts. He was missing an arm and a leg, and he was in Amestris... His limbs were the toll for his dreams becoming his reality? And he was already an existing person here... That meant that his dreams were his memories. His father took off (thank god, he's probably just as bad as here as he is back home) and his mom died. And--

"WE TRIED HUMAN TRANSMUTATION!?" Alphonse looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise.

"A-ah, you see, brother, e-eh..." Alphonse stuttered, then gave up and nodded.

"Why are we so stupid?" He asked himself with a growl. Alphonse raised an eyebrow.

"You're acting... wierd, brother... I mean weirder than usual-- I mean-!!"

Edward swallowed down an obnoxious chuckle rising in his throat and then replied. "Just what are you saying, little brother?" He grinned. He could get used to this, human transmutation or not. After Edward and Alphonse fnished their arguing Winry was growing impatient and bored. At this point in time she was willing to take out her wrench.

"Are you gonna eat or not? You said you were hungry." She had two plates toppling haphazardly in her hands. Edward and Alphonse's eyes were wide and they nodded. "Well get them, then!" Edward scowled and Alphonse reached out. In the end, Edward got more food because, despite Alphonse's hunger, he hadn't eated semi-solid food in a while, and Alphonse had been eating full meals for three weeks or so. Now it was the end of the day, where Ed's incessant whining has come to a slow and he was getting tired. And he was badly out of shape (where did that thought come from?) He was going to wake up and this be one of his dreams again, wasn't he?

He hated it when he was wrong just as much as when he was right.

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So I finished this and no one knows what will happen! Mwahahahhahah! I am the author, mere mortals! Bow before your goddess!!!! If you read Disconnected, the next characters I introduce are kinda douchey like the doctor. But I love the doctor. I just don't know his name. Or how he looks like. He has brown eyes though.


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